by Daley, Lysa
We both squared our attention on the flour-covered Rosario. When she felt the weight of all our eyes on her, she emitted a little high-pitched squeak, then bolted toward the front door.
Stryker bounded around the ratty couch to cut her off in one direction; I cut her off in the other.
Jesse, a big guy, grabbed the bat and prepared to swing it at Clive. I feared for Clive.
Stryker saw this too and warned Jesse, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You don’t want to make Clive mad.”
Jesse sneered, “I got the legal right to protect myself in my own home.”
Then he let ‘er rip, swinging the bat with full force, slamming it into Clive’s chest. The violent blow had almost no effect. Clive stepped forward and yanked the bat from Jesse’s hands. Then he reeled back, roaring with anger.
“Told you.” Stryker shook his head. “Bad idea.”
Right before our eyes, Clive began to change. Dark fur sprouted from his arms, legs, and face, as his body grew in size, ripping his clothes. His human facial features changed into those of the beast.
Clive was your basic werewolf.
“Holy shit,” Jesse muttered, stumbling backwards.
“Dammit Clive. I told you hold it together,” Stryker barked.
Clive, now a seven-foot hulking wolfman, who looked like he could rip you limb from limb, turned to Stryker and cowered like a submissive dog. He actually whimpered.
With all eyes focused on Clive, Rosario seized the opportunity to tiptoe toward the front door, scooping up a set of keys on the table in the small foyer as she disappeared out the door.
Were they car keys? Did she plan to steal her ex-boyfriend’s vehicle and use it as a getaway car?
Before I could grab Rosario, she raced down the stairs, trying to put the helmet back on. But the oversized helmet was too difficult to run in. It wobbled from side to side on her head and nearly fell off. Finally, she was forced to yank it off, becoming fully visible again.
There was no way I was going to let her get away.
Flying down the dimly lit stairwell to the ground floor, it occurred to me that I was actually in hot pursuit of someone, like a detective in a movie.
A week ago my life had been so much different. My biggest worries had been if I got the grad seminars I needed to get my degree, and what office hours I’d get assigned as a teaching assistant.
And now, here I was chasing a thief.
Rosario pushed through a security door at the bottom of the steps. Someone had propped it open so it wouldn’t lock.
The footsteps of Stryker and his pet wolf pounded behind me.
As I passed through the security door, I slammed the heavy steel door behind me, and the lock engaged with a click.
This wouldn’t slow Stryker and his werewolf down for very long, but any advantage I could get might go a long way in helping me get to the helmet first.
By the time I got outside, Rosario was already racing up the sidewalk, fumbling with the stolen car keys as she went. Near the corner, she held up the car fob and clicked it. An ancient, beat-up blue Toyota Corolla chirped as the doors unlocked. A pink crocheted cross dangled from the rearview mirror.
This little piece of junk didn't seem like the sort of thing Jesse would drive. Maybe it was May’s car.
“Rosario, hang on a second,” I called after her as she struggled with car’s door. “I don’t care about the car. I only need to get the helmet back.”
She shook her head. “Oh no. I don't trust you, police lady. I'm not going to jail.”
“I'm not a cop,” I said, trying to reason with her.
“Who are you, then?”
Good question. How exactly did I explain what I was doing?
“I work for people who have been paid to retrieve the item you stole from your employer.”
“I'm just borrowing it. I was going to give it back.”
“They’ll be glad to hear that,” I said, feeling relieved. “Let's stop this whole thing right now, and you can give it back to me.”
For a second it looked like she might actually give it back. But then she turned and started running. I followed. Luckily, she was pretty slow.
I used an old martial arts trick I’d seen in a movie. I gave her a gentle kick right at the bend of her knee, causing it to buckle and throw her off balance.
Worked like a charm. She stumbled, falling forwards. She nearly dropped the helmet, but I lent a hand by reaching out and grabbing it away from her.
Boom! Done. I got my helmet. Yay me. I’d won.
Before she could recover, I turned to go.
I walked as fast as I could without making people think I was fleeing the scene of something. But then, out of nowhere, Rosario came tearing up from behind me, jumped on my back, and tackled me.
My body slammed to the concrete and the helmet clanked down the sidewalk. Rosario scrambled after it, scooping it up, and running back to the car.
Ignoring my two bloody elbows and the pain throbbing in my head, I got up and chased after her again.
It was time to get serious.
I hadn’t wanted to use magic, but I needed to put an end to this situation. I reached for my wand.
Except, I hadn’t brought a wand. Again. I’d left it in my car. My car that had gotten towed.
I was the worst seeker ever.
Catching up with her, I reached for the helmet, but she used her free hand to poke me in the eye.
“Ow!”
For some reason, I hadn’t expected her to fight dirty.
“Leave me alone!” she said, grabbing my ponytail and putting me in a choke hold.
I managed to turn my head sideways so I could breathe, then heaved myself forward, bending at the waist, and threw her over my shoulder.
I’d learned that sweet little judo move in a self-defense class in high school.
From the ground, she asked, “Hey, how’d you turn into that creepy-crawler?”
“What can I say?” I replied. “We’ve all got different talents. If you’re not careful, I’ll turn myself into a bear.”
Her eyes went wide at my lie. “A bear?”
“Or a tiger.” There was no way I could transform into something that large. But she didn’t know that.
“Fine, take it,” she said holding the helmet out to me.
But as I reached for it, she kicked me in the gut. I reeled back.
Rosario rolled over and sprinted back to her car, holding the helmet.
“You’re not getting away, Rosario,” I said following her. “I know where you live.”
In the driver’s seat, she tried to start the engine, but it wouldn't turn over. By the copious amounts of dust and leaves on the hood, the car had been parked here for quite a while.
I reached for the passenger door as the engine finally rumbled roughly to life. I got the door open before she could lock it.
“I just need the helmet,” I said, jumping into the passenger seat. I pretended I had claws and leaned close to her. “Roar!”
Wide-eyed with fear, she reached into the back seat where she had thrown the helmet.
“You win,” she said, thrusting it at me. “I got what I came for. He thought he could steal my car. Give it to that bitch. This is my car. I paid for this car.”
Now it all made sense. Rosario had done all this to get her piece of crap car back. I guess she wasn’t fond of riding the city bus, after all.
“You risked a lot to retrieve your car,” I said. “Why didn't you call the police?”
She laughed. “The police aren’t going to help me. No one was going to help me. And I need this car to go to work. I already lost one job because the bus was always late.”
“I understand.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she continued, “I was going to bring the helmet back when I was done with it. Really I was. They always kept it in the box inside the storage room. I figured no one would miss it. No one ever takes it out. I think maybe it's not a legal thing.”
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She was probably right. The Masons might not have been the legal owners of the helmet. Still, they knew it was missing. That couldn't be undone. Rosario was certainly out of a job now. That couldn't be undone, either.
But maybe, I could keep her out of jail.
I felt bad for her. Even after the eye gouging and hair pulling. She’d done this out of desperation.
“How about this?” I began. “I’ll just take the helmet, and you keep the car.”
She hesitated and thought about my offer for a moment. “And my job?”
“Nothing I can do about that.”
Rosario looked genuinely relieved. “Deal.”
“Smart decision.” I popped the car door open, clutching the helmet under my arm.
I gave the flimsy door a little push to close it. As soon as it clicked shut, she puttered away.
All this trouble for a beat-up little car.
After she disappeared around the corner, I ducked across the street and quickly started walking back to the bus stop.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t turn into an animal large enough to be able to get this helmet home. When I was a few steps from the bus stop, I heard —
“Nice night for a little stroll.” I turned to see a smiling Stryker behind me and coming up fast.
Chapter Twelve
“Could I offer you a ride back to your little apartment in Westwood,” Stryker asked with a sideways grin as he eyed the helmet in my hands.
He beamed with pride, so proud of himself for letting me know that he’d figured out where I lived. It was hard to tell if his offer was a threat or some sort of warning.
At the very least, it was creepy. At the most, it was frightening.
“No thanks,” I said, trying to sound unfazed by his words, but quickening my pace as well. “I have to make a quick stop on the way back.”
He kept pace with me. “What kind of colleague would I be if I didn't offer to take you to the impound lot to get your little Honda back? Some parts of Hollywood can be a dangerous place at night.”
“Look, buddy.” I stopped and turned to face him. “I don't know if you're trying to freak me out or what, but I'm fine. I can get home on my own. So you can knock off all the weirdo innuendos. Big deal you managed to dig up a little something about my life. Any fool with an Internet connection can find that. In fact, anyone who has access to the UCLA student directory could figure it out too.”
“You got me,” he said, turning his palms over in mock surrender. “I'm not that smart. Still I'm smarter than you.”
“How so?”
Then faster than lightning, he snatched the helmet right out of my hands. “Because I have the helmet and you don’t.”
“Hey!”
“Sucker!” he called out as he confidently marched back down the block.
“Give that back!” I started after him, but he was fast. Like crazy fast. Also, he was way bigger and stronger than me.
Still, I couldn’t let him walk away with the helmet.
After a moment’s hesitation, I charged after him. Lunging for the helmet he had casually balanced on his left hip, he effortlessly switched it to the right side at the last second without ever turning around.
As I flew past him, he also managed to grab me by the back of my shirt and thrust me sideways, so I face planted on the grass.
“Nice try,” he said, gliding down the sidewalk.
I scrambled to my feet, but he pointed his wand at my feet and said, “Alliges duplicia.”
I knew what he was doing, and I quickly tried to spread me feet apart. But I was too slow. My shoelaces unwound then rewound themselves together. He’d used a simple binding spell to tangle my shoelaces into knots.
I felt like an idiot, standing there in the middle of the sidewalk, empty-handed with my shoelaces tied together so tightly that it took me ten minutes just to loosen them enough to slip my shoes off.
He was right. I was a sucker. And now he had the prize. Worse yet, he’d get all the money for the helmet that I recovered.
Barefoot and defeated, I took an Uber into Hollywood to pick up my car. It cost me nearly 300 bucks to get it out of impoundment.
Including the boba and the car ride I had this afternoon, I was now $319 in the hole on this fabulous job.
I was starting to think that a life of fighting crime might not have been for me, after all.
After a shower, I climbed into my bed wearing my favorite flannel pajamas. My whole body ached, and I knew I was going to wake up to some pretty ugly bruises in the morning. I was too tired to worry about it. I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.
In the morning, I felt like a truck had hit me when I woke up.
I knew I could get Mrs. R to brew me up one of her magical medicinal teas that would help me heal more quickly. But then I’d have to explain exactly how I’d gotten so beat up.
Instead, I decided to suck it up and get dressed.
I checked my cell phone to see if there were any messages. Perhaps someone calling to tell me this whole thing had just been one big misunderstanding. Or maybe my dad finally calling to tell me that he was fine, and the funds for my tuition had arrived and my rent was paid.
No such luck.
I felt foolish and a little embarrassed as I turned the whole situation over in my mind. I was too old to be relying on daddy to support me. It was past time that I took responsibility for my own life. I needed to figure out how to pay my own way no matter what.
The way I saw it, I had two choices: I could either accept that Stryker had stolen my bounty, or I could go and register a protest with Mr. Stroud.
Maybe there was some rule or code that stated that you couldn't steal someone’s job once they’d collected it. And if there wasn’t such a rule, there should’ve been.
Back at the Ironwood Building, I inserted the gold coin into the elevator’s slot, pushed the 13th floor button, and descended into the basement.
This time as the doors parted I stepped into a fully illuminated area. It no longer looked anything like the set of a horror movie. Now the area almost had an industrial chic sort of vibe going on.
Agatha told me I could go right in.
Mr. Stroud sat behind his desk, plowing his way through one of the many stacks of paperwork. “Ah, Miss McCray. I don’t see the Helmet of Perseus in your hands, so I’m not sure what brings you here?”
I wasn't sure if he was mocking me or not.
“Well, I did have it,” I began. “Yesterday.”
“Really?” He perked up. “That’s quite exciting.” Then he frowned. “Where is it now?”
I quickly summarized the events of yesterday without leaving anything out. I suppose someone smarter would have skipped the parts about having my car towed, falling in a sink of dishes, and getting my eyes poked by a pudgy maid who was even more out of shape than me.
Mr. Stroud leaned back in his chair, tented his fingers in front of his face, and listened. When I was all done telling every last detail, he scrunched up his face. “Tell me… what exactly are those boba balls made of? They have a peculiar texture.”
My mouth dropped open. “Tapioca.”
“Ah.” He nodded.
This was what he was going to ask me? After everything I’d just told him?
I sighed. “I personally like the texture, but I know a lot of people find it weird.”
“I should give the whole boba thing another try,” he said. “So you had the helmet. Excellent job of tracking it down, by the way. I keep saying this, but I knew you had the stuff for this job. But it slipped through your fingers, so you’ve come here today to protest Mr. Stryker’s behavior?”
“It’s not exactly very professional, is it?” I was glad he raised the subject.
“I supposed it isn’t. At least not in a regular profession. But this isn’t a regular profession. The regulations are very clear. Whoever brings in the lost article gets the reward.”
“But that’s not fair.”
Just then, Stryker strode into the office. “Returned the helmet to the owner. They’re over the moon and said to expect payment in the next hour.”
“Excellent work, Mr. Stryker.” Mr. Stroud smiled. He already knew what had happened last night.
Stryker looked from Mr. Stroud to me. “Hey, doll. Thanks for the assist.”
“Assist? Doesn’t exactly seem like an assist? You have an assistant right? Clive the werewolf?”
“What’s your point?” Stryker asked.
“If he’d gotten the helmet, that would be an assist. But I got it. On my own. You stole it. You’re no different than Rosario.”
“I’m nothing like her,” he said.
“You’re right. You’re worse.”
He sighed. “Here’s what you need to learn about the world, little witch. One man’s thief is another man’s hero. Depends on what side of the situation you’re looking at.”
“Wow. That’s deep.” I rolled my eyes.
This made Stryker laugh. He pointed at Mr. Stroud. “This one’s gonna be good. She’s a keeper, Stroud.”
Rage boiled in me. Arrogant jerk. “I needed that money. For something important.”
Stryker disappeared around the doorway, his voice echoing. “We all need the money, kid. Good luck next time.”
I silently fumed in my seat.
Mr. Stroud calmly gazed across the desk at me. “Shall I contact you if more work arises?”
I stormed out of the building in a dark mood. My car was parked at a meter around the corner. Even though I only expected to be in the building for half an hour, an hour at max, I had stuffed the parking meter full with four hours’ worth of quarters just to be sure my car was safe. Getting towed again would push my frazzled nerves over the edge.
I returned to my waiting Civic to find that I still had three hours and twenty-two minutes remaining on my meter.
“Ms. McCray?” called a smooth voice from behind me. I turned to see a young, cute guy in jeans and a baseball cap walking toward me. “Is that you?”
At first I didn’t recognize him. I mentally flipped through the face of everyone I knew from school as he walked closer. His eyes shifted nervously as he pulled his cap lower, like he was trying to keep his face hidden.
